


FUCK U-UP

by Valentia



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Almost smut, But not really fluff either, Canon Compliant, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Mild Kink, No Spoilers, Tattoos, Teasing, i'm trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 18:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6435091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valentia/pseuds/Valentia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian finds a special interest in Mickey's fingers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FUCK U-UP

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [FUCK U-UP](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/187036) by Valentia. 



> So, this happened. I have a thing for Mickey's tattoos, okay, don't judge me.  
> As almost always, this is a translation, so, please, tell me if you find any kind of mistake. It really helps a lot!  
> Kudos and comments do that, too, by the way, and I really appreciate it! Thanks. <3

Ian is staring at Mickey's hands for a while now. His fingers, actually. He's staring at the accurately tattooed letters that stand out against Mickey's pale skin in a deep black. Provoking, rough, but just so damn _Mickey_.

It tingles in Ian, but somehow he doesn't ask him though.

After weeks Mickey finally has the place all to himself again and they're lying on the couch in the Milkovich house, Mickey lengthways and broad so that Ian would maybe have two inches left to sit down on one end of the couch.

Instead he'd grabbed Mickey's legs under protest, sat down and placed them over his thighs. He'd rather have Mickey's head there, but fuck it, he doesn't complain. Alone the fact that Mickey doesn't threaten him with pulling his teeth out of his head again lets Ian keep his mouth shut, really.

Mickey is smoking the last cigarette of the old packet and holds it between the fingers with the C and the K, with the other hand he's clutching at a beer can. Cheap stuff that tastes like shit, but it's enough to get drunk, and there's no other reason to drink on the South Side.

At one point Mickey notices Ian's staring. Not that it's a rare thing, Ian staring, but usually not exactly at his _hands_. So he asks.

“The fuck are you looking at?” He's really rousing Ian from this thoughts with that. “Got something on my fingers?”

Ian suddenly puts his hands on Mickey's legs and Mickey tries to persuade himself that he doesn't enjoy the extra body contact.

Ian clears his throat. “No, I'm just wondering... What's with the tattoos?”

“Huh?”

Then he gets it. He'd almost forgotten that he even has those damn letters on his fingers.

“FUCK U-UP?” Ian states and raises his eyebrows. “Is there any special meaning to that?”

Now he's obviously making fun of him. Mickey kicks him in the stomach.

“Fuck you, that's the special meaning.”

He empties his beer can, throws it at the trash can, misses it and swears. From the corner of his eye he notices Ian smiling at him with that stupid shit grin that he can't turn off whenever they're having a more or less normal conversation. As if he'd enjoy talking to Mickey. Mickey on his part would rather lie beneath Ian in bed now, with Ian inside him, but before that thought can develop any further, Ian is talking again.

“I'm serious, Mick.”

Mickey sighs. “Yeah, me too, asshole.”

Ian thinks that sometimes he can't understand why he voluntarily keeps spending time with Mickey Milkovich. But in the meantime he must have looked at him in a special way, because when Mickey smiles just a little bit, Ian understands himself better again.

“Nah, really no important story behind it or somethin'.” Mickey stubs out his cigarette so he doesn't have to look at Ian. “I was drunk, Iggy sold crack to some tattoo artist and somehow we thought it'd be a fucking good idea to get me those.”

Ian grins. “And whose idea was it to do _just those?_ ”

Mickey shrugs and moans, bugged. “Fuck should I know? I just said I was hammered!”

“Yeah yeah.”

Ian keeps eying the tattoos. Mickey is on the brink of telling him he should just fucking take a goddamn photo to jack off to, but instead his legs are suddenly pushed off Ian's lap. Ian almost falls against the small table in front of the couch as he's trying to get right in front of Mickey, surrounding him by putting his arms on either side of Mickey, his fingers clutching at the backrest.

“The fuck, Gallagher?”

But Ians is just grinning again, dirtier this time. They look into each other's eyes and Ian can almost feel Mickey's breath on his face.

“The tattoos...” he starts again and Mickey rolls his eyes, groaning.

“Come the fuck on, Ian, what's so wro-”

“They're sexy.”

Mickey stops.

So that's what this is about.

He relaxes a little bit because he likes this answer way better, even if he'd never admit it. Then he shoots Ian a provoking glance, a grin tugging at his lips, because he knows exactly where their conversation is going to end and because the way Ian is staring at him right now is fucking addictive.

“Is that so?”

Mickey enjoys every single fucking second.

Ian nods slowly, still smirking. “Mhm...”

He's getting closer to Mickey again. Close enough now that Mickey would just need to lean forward to kiss him, but instead he waits and sees what Ian still has to say.

“So damn sexy...”

And that's it.

Mickey raises his hands and puts them on Ian's hips. He traces every muscle while caressing Ian's skin way too gently, shoving his grey shirt up on the way.

One of Ian's hands finds its way to Mickey's neck.

“So, firecrotch, if you got such a big thing for my fingers, I have an idea what to do with 'em...”

Mickey's voice is low and teasing and Ian just pulls his shirt over his head himself.

Then he's sitting on Mickey's lap, kissing him hard, all while Mickey's tattooed fingers are finally getting closer to that spot where Ian's wanted them the entire fucking evening.


End file.
